


Albion's Golden Child

by SkewedReality



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkewedReality/pseuds/SkewedReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious woman appears in Camelot in the middle of the night requesting audience with 'Emrys and his King', nothing could have prepared Merlin or Arthur for the fact that she carries with her the future of Albion in a washing basket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on KMM: The full prompt for the story (as well as an alternative way to read and follow the story) can be found here: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/21103.html?thread=21119087#t21119087

Dawn was still hours from breaking when a tentative knock broke the sleeping silence of the royal bedchamber, followed by an equally tentative, “Sire? Merlin?” 

Leon. 

Arthur groaned into Merlin’s shoulder in response before giving him a shove. “Go see what he wants.”

Merlin was just about to remind Arthur that he was no longer his servant and that maybe, just this once, Arthur could get his own lazy arse out of bed to answer the door, but he was stopped by the sound of Leon’s deep sigh—the one that always seemed to come when the knight was truly at a loss and fighting to find words. 

Judging by the fact that Arthur had already thrown his legs over the side of the bed, his directive to Merlin all but forgotten, Arthur had realized as much too. He was halfway to the door when Leon spoke again, sounding just as breathless. “Sire, I believe this might be important.”

Merlin was close behind as Arthur opened the door to reveal Leon, looking just as anxious as he sounded and seeming to be rooted to where he stood. 

“What is it, Leon?” Arthur asked, eyes alert and searching for any signs of danger. He seemed to relax slightly when he found none. 

Leon started quietly. “A woman is requesting the presence of ‘Emrys and his King’ in the receiving room.” Leon’s eyes darted quickly between the king and his consort before he continued. “W-We’ve no idea how she got in, sire.” 

For his part, Arthur appeared calm, long past the novelty of sorcerers making a spectacle of themselves to gain audience or favor. He ran a hand through his already sleep-mussed hair before stating flatly, “Yes, well. Unless it’s urgent, she can wait until morning. _Emrys and his King_ were asleep. Please remind her that sorcerers do not get special audience because they are able to appear from thin air—“

“Arthur,” Merlin admonished, mostly because Arthur was being rude but partly because Leon was shifting uncomfortably on his feet. It took a lot, Merlin recalled from experience, to make Arthur’s first knight look so shaken, but Arthur had already turned back toward their bed, clearly already considering the matter closed. Merlin continued anyway. “Did she say what her business was, Leon?”

Again, Leon shook his head. “Only that she wanted to speak with you and Arthur,” he said, pausing briefly and knitting his brow. “She carries with her a washing basket, but otherwise, she has nothing,” he supplied, as though attempting to piece together the puzzle for himself before he pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “It’s just that…the woman, sire. She’s…” 

Arthur half-turned back around when addressed. “She’s what?” 

Leon clearly steeled himself before speaking, his voice barely above a breathless whisper. “She’s your mother, sire.” 

Arthur threw himself into a run, shoving past so suddenly that both Merlin and Leon were knocked into a stumble in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

Even with just a few seconds head start, Merlin was barely able to catch up. He was only able to stop Arthur from bursting through the door by slamming the doors shut and locking them with magic as he threw himself down the last few stairs, out of breath and sick with worry. 

Arthur spun on him the moment his feet were flat on the floor. “Open the damn door, Merlin!” 

He could hear the panic that was skillfully hidden behind the rage, and Merlin immediately outstretched his arm to rest a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You need to calm down. You’ll do no good bursting through that door like you’re out for blood.”

After barely a full breath, he felt Arthur deflate under his hand so he chanced another step forward, reaching this time to take Arthur’s hands. When Arthur put up no resistance, Merlin squeezed his hands, saying, “The sorceress in there, she’s not your mother, Arthur…”

The hope in Arthur’s voice very nearly broke Merlin’s heart. “How can you be sure? We haven’t even seen—“

“She’s a sorceress. I can sense her power. I’m not even sure that she’s entirely human.” He let the words sit for a moment, let Arthur fully accept them before following with, “Let me speak with her first—“

“You are not going in that room by yourself!” Arthur gestured sharply to the door, his voice rising in kind. “You said yourself she’s not entirely human!”

Merlin couldn’t quite fight the quick swell of happiness in his chest at Arthur’s continued protectiveness, at the fact that he’d never even considered Arthur _not_ accompanying him to speak with the sorceress. “I never said you had to wait outside. I just said to let me speak with her first.”

“Oh.” Arthur still didn’t look happy, looked even less happy when he suddenly realized that he’d left his sword in their chamber and was armed only with the clothes he wore to bed. Arthur had just opened his mouth to speak, whether in further protest or rare agreement, Merlin would never be sure, because as he began, he was interrupted by a voice from the other side of the closed doors. 

“You needn’t worry, Arthur Pendragon,” the voice said, softer than Merlin had expected for someone so powerful. “I mean no harm to you or your lover.” With the words, the door opened against Merlin’s magic. “Come inside, my children.”

Arthur strode across the room to stand in front of the sorceress, and Merlin found himself wholly unsurprised that his ‘let me speak first’ directive went unheeded. 

The woman was an exact double of Ygraine. She had the same blonde hair as her son, though her features were much sharper. Sharp but still delicate and beautiful. She was clad in a flowing silver cloak that fell just to the tops of her bare feet.

Had she been anyone else, Merlin would have believed that it was a trick of the light that made the already shimmering cloak seem to be its own light source—illuminated in places that contradicted the candlelight of the room and shadowed in the same manner. She radiated warmth and feminine beauty in a way that could never be human. 

Luckily, in the moment it took for Arthur to overcome the shock of seeing his mother’s face mirrored by the woman in front of him, Merlin was able to speak. “What is your name, my lady?” It seemed necessary to defer to whoever this sorceress was, seeing as he had never encountered anyone who matched the power he could feel radiating from her. 

She gave him a soft smile in return, and Merlin was sure it was genuine. “I have been given many names by the children of this Earth,” she said softly, the gentle smile still lifting her lips. “It is not important who I am, young Emrys. What is important is who you are.” Her eyes moved to Arthur. “The king forged in fire and war and the sorcerer born of the very elements of magic itself.”

Arthur moved from his rigid position in front of the sorceress to stand beside Merlin, stepping around the inexplicable laundry basket filled with blankets without so much as a glance. The sorceress smiled again. “The prophecy has come to pass that the two halves would be made whole and magic would once again be welcome in Camelot. The Once and Future King has taken his throne with his sorcerer by his side, and now the golden age of Albion can truly begin.” 

“What do you know of the prophecy?” Arthur asked, seeming at a loss for anything else to say but still apparently wanting to make his presence and question-asking authority as king known. 

At this, the sorceress laughed, the sound was delicate bells in harmony. “My son,” she chuckled. “I _wrote it_.”

“The prophecies were written by the Triple Goddess,” Merlin said, feeling as though he was finally beginning to understand the reason for the power within the sorceress. “You’re not a sorceress at all.” Merlin could only match her smile as she shook her head. “You are the Mother.”

“Very good, young Emrys,” she said with all the love of a mother in her voice. “I chose this form in hopes that you would understand. Clearly you are as clever as they say, dear boy.”

There was a moment’s pause that was not at all uncomfortable before Arthur spoke, his voice quieter and younger than Merlin had heard it in many years, hopefully meaning that Arthur understood that he held no power in the room. His sovereignty far overshadowed by their visitor. “Excuse my forwardness, but I am certain that this is not purely a social visit, my lady,” he prompted.

“No,” she started, turning her soft smile toward Arthur, and if Merlin saw him blanch at the sight of his not-mother’s smile, he’d never mention it. “Though I tell you that it brings me great vindictive pleasure to be standing inside the walls of what was once Uther Pendragon’s castle.” 

With a whispered spell, the Goddess called the nearly-forgotten washing basket to her side. “Many say that alchemy is impossible,” she began, lifting the basket to hover between them. It wasn’t until that very moment that Merlin saw the blankets inside the basket stir. “But that is because those who try will never succeed because they do not know the spell to turn something base and pure into gold. Not as the two of you do.”

“Mother…?” Merlin barely recognized his own voice, cracking and tense as it was. 

Before he could finish, Arthur took a step forward toward the basket, and Merlin saw him swallow thickly as he shifted aside the blanket to reveal a sleeping baby. For Merlin, the connection was immediate and overwhelming. He could only assume that Arthur felt the same judging by the way he slowly gathered the tiny thing into his arms and carried it back to Merlin’s side. 

“The magic in that child is matched only by yours, Emrys, just as his strength and power is matched only by yours, Arthur Pendragon,” the Mother said, her voice no longer light but serious and holding with it the weight and wisdom of her years. “The boy you hold in your arms heralds the golden age of Albion. His magic will be powerful and unyielding, but his love and compassion will guide him. As a ruler, he will rule with authority and be just in all he does, because he was born of the Once and Future King and the most powerful sorcerer to walk the Earth.”

Merlin looked up from where he was stroking the cheek of the sleeping child in Arthur’s arms. “Wait. You said that he was ‘born of’ Arthur and I? How is that possible?”

“When the two halves were made whole, the golden age of Albion could begin,” she said matter-of-factly, though she didn’t really give any answer at all. 

Merlin refused to blush as he whispered, “This child cannot be more than a month old. Arthur and I have been…” he struggled dumbly for the right word. “’Made whole’ for years.”

At this the Goddess actually laughed a bright and mirthful sound. “Yes, Emrys, this is very true, but you were never,” she laughed quietly to herself as she repeated Merlin’s words. “’Made whole’ in the prophesized place until you were led there by the goddess you may know as The Maiden. It was only when the two of you joined in the forest edging the Lake of Avalon that the magic was born.”

_It came back to him suddenly. Nearly a year ago, Merlin began having dreams of Arthur’s sword. After its final battle at Camlann, and after he nearly lost Arthur to Mordred’s blade, Merlin had thrown the sword back into the depths of the lake before returning to Arthur’s side. It had been five years since Camlann, and he couldn’t help but think that the dreams were important somehow. After telling Arthur about his dreams, they rode to the lake. They stayed for nearly two days looking for any indication that anything was wrong but never found anything._

_Despite all the berating that Merlin had been wrong and that they’d ridden all that way for nothing, they did manage to find other ways to make the most out of their rarely-found alone time._

“I knew it was a trick,” Arthur said, not sounding upset at all about having been led on a wild goose chase by an all-powerful goddess. “Merlin, despite all his faults, isn’t usually wrong about things like that.” Apparently then Arthur came up with a question of his own. “If you needed us to join in order to activate the magic, does that mean that he is truly _our_ son?”

“When you and Emrys joined in our forest, we harnessed the love and power that was created and used it to plant your child inside the Maiden. The boy was created from your seed and your love, and under the last full moon, he was born into this world.” She leaned forward and touched the tip of the baby’s nose. “He is indeed a Pendragon. In fact…” She smiled. “I believe he might already have Emrys’ ears,” she said with a small laugh.

“Let us hope not,” Arthur said, and for the first time, he joined in laughing with the Mother. Barely a moment later, however, Arthur sobered. “He is a child born of magic.”

It wasn’t phrased like a question, but the question was there all the same: _Theirs was a child born of magic, just as Arthur had been. Had their child been born of the magic that killed his mother?_

“He is not born of the same magic used in your birth, young king,” she said. She reached out for the first time and placed her hand on Arthur’s arm. “The magic used in your birth was very dark and very dangerous. Nimueh was indeed a priestess of the Old Religion, but her ways were not our own.” 

She leaned in closer so that she could whisper in Arthur’s ear, barely loud enough for Merlin to make out what she was saying. “Did you know that when your Emrys destroyed her, he not only destroyed the priestess but took from her the ability to wield the powers of life and death? The very power used to bring you into this world, that only Nimueh held and used for her own devices, is now safe in Emrys’ hands, never to be abused again.”

Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s briefly and in them was a warmth that Merlin would never tire of, would always treasure, but when he leaned in to speak to the Mother, Merlin couldn’t hear what he said. Whatever the words had been, the Mother’s smile turned kind and warm and she squeezed his arm again. 

The Goddess took a step back and spoke, voice was louder than it had been during the rest of their meeting. “This child has been imparted to you by the Triple Goddess. He must know the ways of the Old Religion as well as the ways of his father. He was birthed by the Maiden, given to you by The Mother, and one year to the day after his birth, you must bring him to the Lake of Avalon and bathe him in its waters as a covenant to The Crone that he will know the old ways.”

Merlin stood up straight, locking eyes with the Mother in the most solemn promise he was capable of. “I swear to you that he will be taught the old ways. He will be taught the weight and responsibilities of his magic from childhood, and when he takes the throne, he will be as just and compassionate as Arthur before him.”

“Very good,” she said simply. “What will you call him?”  
Without even taking his eyes from his son’s face, Arthur said, “Madoc. He will be called Madoc.” 

The mother bowed to Arthur and Merlin for just a moment before standing and resting her hand against the baby’s cheek. “Well, Madoc Pendragon, I will leave you now. It has been an honor to help guide you into this world, and there is no one I trust more to help guide you through it than your fathers.” 

And with a kiss to Madoc’s small forehead, the Mother was gone, leaving Merlin and Arthur alone with their son.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, the hours that followed Madoc’s arrival in Camelot were a hectic blur.

A wet nurse needed to be found, clothes needed to be made, a bassinette needed to be found _quickly_ because, no matter how practical it may have seemed to Merlin, apparently Arthur was _sharply_ opposed to the new prince spending even one night in a washing basket.

_(An opinion he voiced loudly enough to cause the aforementioned prince to stir in a manner which dangerously resembled the beginning stages of waking up.)_

“I’ll have to speak to the council,” Arthur mused, his eyes fixed on Madoc’s face. “I have no idea what I’ll tell them,” he said, a laugh that bordered on incredulous coloring his words. He rested his palm against his son’s cheek, the stirring child seeming calmed by the action. “But I feel as though I need to at least tell Leon that the sorceress didn’t kill us both.”

Merlin barely heard him over the rushing sound in his ears. All at once, the sight of Arthur holding this child—their child—froze Merlin to where he stood.

As powerful as he was, he had hardly dared to dream that a moment such as this could be possible. He had known that, despite their love, the king would need an heir that Merlin could never give him. At some point—probably sooner than later—Arthur would have needed to take a wife. To father a child that could inherit his kingdom.

In solitude, Merlin had let himself have just one fantasy. A fantasy that he had never spoken aloud to anyone.

He had found a spell inside one of the dusty tomes that Geoffrey had hidden away during the Great Purge. A spell similar to the one spoken of by the Mother that would allow them to have a child of their own, but he couldn’t force himself to ask Gaius about it—there were just some things that probably should be kept private—and he didn’t _dare_ mention it to Arthur.

During quiet moments, he would let himself imagine a child with blond hair and ears that were just big enough to be endearing. He had a crooked little smile and broad shoulders. His soft blue eyes would flash gold with the elemental magic he used to entertain anyone who would watch.

Before his very eyes, the dream he had never allowed himself to hope for had suddenly become real. Arthur was holding _their_ child, and it was more perfect, more beautiful than Merlin had ever imagined it could be. 

It wasn’t until he felt Arthur’s fingers brush over his cheek that Merlin realized he had been crying.  

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was soft.  

All Merlin could manage were the words, “…our son.”

When Arthur laughed, it was obvious that he was crying too. “Our son.”

Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Merlin’s. Both were smiling a bit too wide and both were crying so the kiss was a little sloppy and just a little wet, but it was perfect.

“Take him to our rooms. I’ll go speak with the midwife and have her send a wet nurse. Madoc--” Arthur smiled around the name. “--will be waking soon.”

He very gingerly shifted Madoc into Merlin’s arms, pausing for a moment to stare dreamily before a wide, beaming smile lit up his face. After a quick kiss to Merlin’s lips and Madoc’s forehead, and the instruction to make a list of things babies need—and really how should Merlin know what in the Hell a baby needs?—Arthur left in a hurry.

It had been mere moments after Merlin arrived into their chambers that servants began coming and going, all hurrying to meet the inexplicable requests apparently given to them by their king, running to clear the antechamber to the royal chambers and quickly replace its furnishings to meet the room’s new purpose.

Merlin laughed softly at the image of Arthur grabbing servants at random as they began their day—the sun barely peeking above the horizon—and barking out seemingly insane requests. They must think their king had gone mad.

For their part, the endless rotation of servants that passed through the doors all craned their necks to see what was happening in the royal bedroom where Merlin had Madoc lying on the bed surrounded by pillows and hidden completely by curtains, but none asked questions.

It was probably best for the time being to leave them to their speculation, because the truth, Merlin was sure, was far more scandalous than any rumors that could possibly be generated.

About half an hour later, Arthur finally made his way back to their chambers—the newly appointed wet nurse in tow. Dead on his feet as he was, Merlin barely registered Arthur taking Madoc from his arms and handing him over to his nurse— _Kara_ or _Kelly_ , definitely something starting with a K sound, before hauling Merlin out the door against his tired protestations.

They were halfway down the corridor before Merlin finally spoke up. “Arthur, surely whatever this is can wait until—“He almost said, ‘ _until morning’_ but stopped as he felt the sunlight filtering through the windows onto his face. That’s right, he thought, it _is_ morning. So he finished with, “—until we’ve all had some sleep.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” Arthur replied, neither turning to face his complaining consort nor managing to sound in any way _actually_ sorry. “I spoke with Leon, but decided to postpone council until later when we’ve got all of this sorted out.”

“Good idea,” Merlin replied, both because he felt obligated to at least acknowledge the fact that Arthur had spoken, even if he was fairly sure Arthur was only talking to himself.

Arthur took a deep breath, but didn’t slow down, continuing his thought with, “I believe that we need to tell Gaius what happened and hope that he can help us.”

“Help us _how_?” Merlin asked. Surely he wasn’t hoping that Gaius was going to be able to offer them any tips on parenting a newborn. He’s a physician, not a nanny. By the sour expression on Arthur’s face, Merlin had once again accidentally voiced his thoughts. He really needed to work on his inner monologue capabilities.

After a huff, Arthur finally dignified the question with, “He has insight into the Old Religion that we could only dream of having. Not only that, but he can help us find out what Madoc’s birthday is. Or have you already forgotten the instruction given to us by the goddess, because a ‘covenant’ with a goddess doesn’t seem like something that should be taken lightly.”

“I remember,” Merlin answered with a roll of his eyes. Of course it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. A year to the day after Madoc’s birth, he was to be taken to the Lake of Avalon as a sign of respect to the eldest of the goddesses. “I’m just saying that I don’t see why it needs to be done _now_.”

The end of Merlin’s thought was mumbled under his breath and was immediately punctuated by Arthur’s fist banging on Gaius’ door. It was a testament to how tired Arthur was that he didn’t just barge in as per usual.

“Sire,” Gaius greeted with all due deference to his king. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon Merlin, as if trying to figure out what sort of catastrophe he’d managed to land them all in this time. Merlin laughed at that. He hoped that Gaius still had it in him after all these years to still be surprised, because he was pretty sure that Gaius could never have predicted Madoc.

Arthur let himself in while Gaius was still greeting him, dragging Merlin over the threshold before finally letting go of his wrist.

“What brings you here so early? I do hope everything is alright.” Again, the man’s eyes fell appraisingly on Merlin. He couldn’t even bring himself to be offended.

Arthur leaned his hip against a heavy wooden table. “Well, Gaius, Merlin and I were actually hoping that you could provide us with a little bit of insight…” He trailed off into a silence that stretched on for a beat too long before trying again. “I’m not sure if you knew this, but Camelot had a visitor last night.”

At this, Gaius looked intrigued. “What sort of a visitor, sire?”

Merlin answered for him. “She was a goddess—The Matron, she called herself.”

If Gaius had looked intrigued before, it was nothing compared to the expression on his face now. His eyebrow nearly reached his hairline. “The Matron?” His voice echoed off the walls of the small chamber.

“Yes,” Merlin confirmed as he watched Gaius drop down into a nearby chair. When it became clear that Gaius wasn’t going to press further and that Arthur seemed to feel no compulsion to take charge of the conversation, Merlin took a breath and launched into the whole story.

He told Gaius how the Matron took the form of Arthur’s mother, how she came bearing a child that had been carried by the Maiden, how the child was fathered by both himself and Arthur. He might have skipped over the part about how the goddesses had tricked he and Arthur into traveling to the Lake of Avalon and all the details of their _activities_ in the forest by the lake.

For his part, Gaius—his eyes wide as saucers and a hand loosely clutching his chest—was silent as Merlin drew to a close of the story.

When silence stretched on, Arthur finally spoke up. “Gaius, she spoke of Madoc as though he was part of the prophecy around Merlin and I…”

Gaius’ face finally broke from the mask of shock into a look of confusion. “That prophecy, at least as I’ve translated it, ends with the two of you becoming one. It was my belief that your handfasting was the prophecy foretold. That your union marked the true return of magic to Camelot.”

“That is what Merlin and I believed as well,” Arthur supplied, “but the Matron said that now that Merlin and I had been ‘made whole,’ that the golden age of Albion could begin. She said that Madoc is the herald of the foretold golden age. Merlin and I studied that prophecy inside and out—“ Arthur broke off, his brows knitted in confusion.

The expression deepened when Gaius smiled, shaking his head lightly. The old man rose from his chair and came to stand in front of the king, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Some prophecies are not for us to understand, my lord. Some prophecies are only meant to be _obeyed_.”

Arthur nodded his understanding and Merlin smiled. This was one prophecy that Merlin found himself willing and eager to obey.

“There was something else we were hoping you could help us with,” Merlin started, moving to perch on the edge of the table. “She said that we would have to bring Madoc to the Lake of Avalon a year and a day after his birth…”

“Did she tell you when he was born?” Gaius interjected.

“He was born under the crest of the last full moon,” Arthur answered, perching beside Merlin and placing a hand on his knee. Merlin leaned into his side.

At that, Gaius made his way to his bookshelf, selecting a book and coming to sit down at his new worktable. “If you’ll allow me a few hours, I can look further into this new prophecy and figure out the prince’s birthday.”

Merlin felt Arthur shift beside him—the movement nearly unsettling him where he was half-asleep against Arthur’s side. He felt Arthur’s arm come to wrap around his waist to keep him steady before he spoke, “I know you’ve retired from your position, and I’m sorry to burden you with this, Gaius, but you’re the only one I’d trust with such important matters.”

“I’m happy to help, my lord,” Gaius answered, sounding genuinely truthful. “It has been far too long since this kingdom has truly had something to celebrate.”

He was right, of course. Aside from the usual solstice festivals and the like, and since Merlin had insisted on a private affair for their handfasting ceremony, the last real celebration had followed Arthur’s coronation. And the atmosphere of that evening had been tainted with the grief of Uther’s passing.

“I agree entirely,” Arthur said. His tone was bright even if it was obvious from the way his words had become slightly sluggish, the weight of the night was pressing down on him. Which is why Merlin was unsurprised when he heard Arthur start making his excuses. “I should probably get him to bed,” he offered, sliding his hand from where it rested against Merlin’s hip to the center of his back.

“You both look exhausted,” Gaius said. His words were followed by a laugh that sounded almost ominous. “You’d better take sleep wherever you find it.”

The conversation started to get fuzzy around the edges and he swayed on his feet when Arthur pulled him to his feet. He was fairly certain that, even if he didn’t actually manage a formal goodbye, he had at least waved to Gaius in acknowledgement, because he felt Gaius grab his wrist and lean in close to whisper in his ear.

“It’s vital that the kingdom knows and accepts its new prince. Uther still has many supporters who are against magic in Camelot. Not only does Camelot have an official court sorcerer, but now the heir to the throne is a magical child. Many supporters of the old laws may strike out in protest. The last time this kingdom celebrated the birth of a prince, it accompanied the beginning of the Great Purge,” Gaius warned softly, before squeezing Merlin’s wrist to catch his attention.

“Be careful, Merlin. Not everyone is going to consider Madoc a blessing,” he finished, patting Merlin on the back. Merlin nodded woodenly as he let himself be towed back toward their chambers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been raised to M for talk of miscarriages. The M rating will be mostly used for themes but sexual content has not been ruled out.

In the hours that followed their return from Gaius’ chambers, Merlin slept, all of the excitement of the evening crashing down on him and sweeping him under mere seconds after his head hit the pillow.

Thankfully, the nurse was busy enough settling Madoc into his new home and routine that barely a glance was spared for her king where he sat next to his sleeping consort. It gave Arthur a chance to come to grips with all that had happened.

Merlin had shifted slightly in his sleep as he tended to do, starting out sleeping straight as an arrow and ending up draped sprawlingly over Arthur. Not that Arthur minded much. Especially in situations very much like the one at hand when Arthur relied on the comfort of Merlin’s familiarity to ground him, to settle his frayed nerves in a way that nothing else seemed capable.

He rested his hand on Merlin’s back, thumb sliding in an absent back-and-forth over the sharp jut of his lover’s shoulder blade. He could feel the steady rise and fall of breath beneath his hand and focused on it wholly, allowed the calm breaths to ease his racing mind.

It had been many years since Camelot had welcomed a new prince. And as he’d overheard Gaius imparting to Merlin in a not-so-hushed voice, the announcement of his own birth had been as tragic as it was a cause for celebration, far overshadowed as it was by the death of his mother.

He’d never had much interest in celebrating his own birthday. Merlin had insisted, of course, especially in the years following Uther’s death that the people of Camelot needed to be allowed to celebrate their new king’s birthday. He’d gone along with the idea in good enough spirits, usually, but even in the thick of the festivities, he could never forget the darkness that used to come over Uther as he soldiered through yet another anniversary of the death of his true love.

It seemed incredibly selfish to force a celebration for the anniversary of beginning of the darkest time in Camelot’s history simply because his birth was at the crux of it all. Best to just let some things lie.

Since his Uther’s death, Arthur had done his best to try and walk the fine line between honoring his father’s legacy and righting the wrongs of the past.

With Merlin’s help and careful guidance, he had begun to make Camelot a place that was open and welcoming to all her citizens. And over the few years since repealing the ban on magic, there had been no violent attacks or curses placed on the city. In fact, Camelot had begun to flourish. Crops had been hearty, harvests more bountiful than any Arthur could remember. The people were happy and healthy as well, now able to rely on healing magic to combat illnesses that might have been fatal in recent years past.

Camelot was thriving.

In moments of doubt, Arthur sometimes let himself wonder what his father would think of his reign. Would he still be so hatefully opposed or might he have seen the error of his own ways and accept that Arthur was the king that would bring Camelot into her most prosperous age?

But in all the years he had spent waiting for a sign of approval, he never expected that it would come in the form of a beautiful child created from the love that he had built his life and his kingdom on: The love that he shared with Merlin.

Until the night he first saw their son, Arthur had never believed in miracles.

He had long since accepted fate and destiny to be all-encompassing and inescapable, accepted his role as the Once and Future King and all that it entailed. For as long as the prophecies foretold that Merlin would be by his side, Arthur could embrace his destiny.

So, yes, destiny he could accept. Destiny he could believe in. But _miracles_? Never.

Arthur’s nurses used to call him a ‘miracle child’. His mother had never been able to conceive. She had miscarried three times before Gaius had finally told her that she would never be able to carry a child to term. She had taken to bed for nearly two months, Uther had been sick with worry. Though whether that concern was for his wife or the improbability of siring an heir, Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The story after that had been that Uther had sent for a second opinion, summoning a young woman from far away that would be able to help. And it was because of her blessed advice that Ygraine had finally been able to conceive. It had been touted as a miracle all over Camelot, but Arthur knew that Nimueh had been no physician, and that his father had, knowingly or not, sacrificed Ygraine’s life for the sake of an heir.

Arthur’s birth hadn’t been a miracle. It had been a catalyst. It had incited Uther’s madness and wrought death on hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people.

Therein lay the difference between Arthur and Madoc’s arrival to Camelot.

Where Arthur’s conception itself had resulted in an upset to the very balance of nature that required a death in exchange for his life, Madoc was a gift to mark the restoration of that balance. He was a covenant formed with the Triple Goddess, a promise that the followers of the Old Religion would be free.

Where Arthur was born of greed, Madoc was born of love.

He would be raised in a Camelot where his gifts and talents would be embraced and nurtured. He would never want for the praise and affection of his father as Arthur had. He would never have to wonder whether or not his actions made his father proud. He would always know that he is loved.

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts by a quiet knock on the door followed by a “Your Majesty?”

It must have been later in the day that he realized if his servant was already coming with breakfast for himself and Merlin. He called softly for Edgar to come in before shifting away from Merlin and gesturing for Edgar to speak quietly. He received a nod of acknowledgement and Edgar got to work setting the table.

“You’ll want to leave the cover on Merlin’s plate,” Arthur said, moving to pull the curtains around the bed just a little tighter to block the sunlight from waking Merlin. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, it was a bit of a late night.”

Edgar shifted his weight but otherwise gave no indication that he’d paid any attention to the castle gossip. He continued his work at the table before gathering up the clothes Merlin had scattered on the floor on his way to bed.

Arthur found himself feeling all at once very magnanimous. “Once you finish the laundry, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

 “Sire?” Edgar stuttered out, and Arthur briefly wondered if Merlin had been right all those years about him being a rubbish master. Did he really work his servants so hard that the very mention of a day off had them wondering for his sanity? He barely had time to be offended before Edgar was continuing. “You have training this morning and council this afternoon…”

He trailed off as Arthur waved a hand through the air.

“I’ve put off training this morning.” Which he’d just realized he’d forgotten to tell his knights. Oh well, they’d realize soon enough that he wasn’t going to be there. “And I still have to prepare for the council meeting, but I think it’s probably best that I gather my thoughts first.”

Trained far-too-well to speak out, all Arthur got in return was a bow and a “Yes, sire,” before Edgar picked up the dirty clothes basket and made his way out of the room in double-time. It was times like these when Arthur missed having a servant who would ask questions, or at least treat him with some degree of humanity and not as though he were a god figure.

As if on cue, he heard Merlin’s voice, muffled as it was by a pillow and the blanket nearly wrapped around his head. “Is that breakfast?”

Arthur grinned to himself and made his way to Merlin’s side, giving him a shove. “If you think I’m bringing it to you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

There wasn’t much of a struggle, but he was almost positive he heard Merlin mutter something like, “Wouldn’t dream of it, _sire_ ,” as he rolled out of bed, sheet draped over his shoulders to combat the chill of the room through his thin sleep clothes, and dropped down into a chair, reaching across the table for the small pot of honey.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to tell everyone yet?” he asked, absentmindedly dipping a piece of toasted bread in honey and popping it into his mouth.

At that, Arthur all but fell into his own chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth in thought. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

And he really didn’t. Even after all of his soul-searching and critical reasoning of the past few hours, he still had no idea how to begin to announce the arrival of a prince conceived by two men and carried by a goddess. Even with magic more tolerated now than in years past, Arthur was sure there was a limit to what some of Uther’s most dedicated followers would accept.

There had been talk of an uprising when he’d married Merlin and named him the official Court Sorcerer. Nothing had ever come of the rumors, but if some fringe groups reacted with such vitriol to their king marrying a sorcerer, he could only imagine how they would take the news that the next in line for the throne of Camelot would be a sorcerer himself.

“This is the most important event of my life—of _our lives_ ,” Arthur began, “I have to be very careful in how I approach this announcement to the people. As Gaius said, not everyone will be overjoyed by Madoc’s arrival. That is my biggest worry.”

Merlin set his fork down and leaned forward to catch Arthur’s hand where it was floundering on the table. “No one will dare speak out—“

“I’m not concerned about the ones who speak out.” He could hear the pessimism in his own voice. “It’s the ones who say nothing. The ones who smile to my face and then…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I will not let Madoc come to any harm at the hands of duplicitous cowards.”

“Of course not.” Merlin squeezed his hand, giving Arthur his best reassuring smile. Despite the doom and gloom brewing in his mind, Arthur found himself succumbing to his husband’s comforting tone. “Has it occurred to you that Madoc is the son of the two most powerful men in Camelot?”

Arthur scoffed, still barely able to associate the word _powerful_ with a man who had tripped over his own feet and went sprawling on the floor while putting his socks on barely two days prior. That the man whose power had single-handedly ended the battle between Camelot and Morgana’s forces was the same one who hummed while rubbing salve into Arthur’s aching muscles each night, not because it was his duty but simply because he enjoyed caring for his husband. 

Before he could open his mouth to answer, Merlin was continuing.

“No one in their right mind would try and hurt him when he is under our protection, and even if they did try, we have spies and loyalists in every corner of this kingdom. We would know well in advance of any plots against us.” Merlin was sure, and Arthur could see why. He was right.

Loathe as Arthur would ever be to admit it, sometimes, Merlin’s mind worked just a bit faster than his own, was able to see things more clearly or from a different angle that seemed to put everything neatly into place.

“Maybe you’re right,” Arthur said on a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “It doesn’t happen often, Merlin, but sometimes, on very rare occasions, you do happen to be right.”

Merlin grinned into his water glass. “And yet, I’m still right more often than you are…”

He rolled his eyes and kicked Merlin under the table.

It was obvious that Merlin was nearly jumping out of his skin to see Madoc again. Maybe, like Arthur, the entire night still felt like a dream that could only truly be real when viewed by the light of day. When the first sounds of crying came from the antechamber, Merlin was on his feet, quickly shadowed by Arthur.

“Sorry, sires,” the nurse, Kara, apologized, holding Madoc close to her chest. “He just woke up and he’s not quite happy about it. I’ll have him quieted down soon. You can go back to your breakfast.”

From the way Merlin was looking at her, eyes wide with incredulity, he had no idea why she was apologizing, and again, Arthur wanted to laugh at his simple husband and his complete lack of knowledge of the relationship between royal parents and their children.

Children were to be seen and not heard—something that Merlin had clearly never mastered in his own childhood. And the king and queen—or in their own case, king and _consort_ would go on with their busy schedules, leaving the child in the care of a harried nurse.

He was about to place a hand on his husband’s shoulder and make excuses to leave when Merlin stepped forward, arms outstretched in a clear request to hold Madoc.

“My mother was a midwife,” he started, taking Madoc from her arms and seeming almost offended that Kara was trying to shoo them out of the room. “I can care for a crying child.”

It was amusing to see Kara react to Merlin’s obvious breach of etiquette, her widened eyes darting nervously to Arthur. Clearly, she didn’t dare defy the request of the king’s consort, but she seemed wholly confused as to why the request was made in the first place.

“Thank you, Kara,” Arthur intervened, leading Kara toward the door and away from where Merlin was humming to soothe their son. “Why don’t you go get some breakfast yourself? We can look after Madoc for a little while.” He placed a hand on the girl’s arm, leaning in. “Forgive him. He doesn’t understand our customs.”

A tentative smile lifted the girl’s lips, and she stopped with her hand on the door knob. “It’s no bother, Your Majesty,” she said with a gentle wave of her free hand. “Lord Merlin strikes me as the nurturing type. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that he should want to spend time with your child.”

“You’ll get used to his peculiarities in time,” Arthur answered with a kind smile. “He has nothing but kindness in his heart.”

Kara returned his smile and let herself out of the room with a bow. The door barely shut behind her before there was a tentative knock.

When Arthur pulled open the door before the knock had even finished, Edgar jumped back in surprise. “My apologies, sire,” he began quickly, startled. Arthur stepped back to let his servant into the room. “I know I was given the day off, but I was stopped by Lord Geoffrey. He would like to speak to you at your convenience, sire.”

Of course he would.

No doubt Geoffrey had heard the news of the arrival. Arthur had always privately wondered whether or not Geoffrey actually paid servants to report to him with such rumors. It was the only explanation he could think of that the old man could possibly know things so quickly considering he rarely left his library.

Honestly, he’d been putting off speaking to Geoffrey. Even if he knew that consulting the court genealogist would be the most logical first step, Geoffrey had been one of his father’s men. Despite swearing his loyalty to Arthur, it was clear that the old man’s allegiances still rested with Uther’s Camelot. Geoffrey was still a trusted advisor because of his vast wealth of knowledge of history and lineage, but he made it plain in his frequent dissention that he did not fully agree with the direction Arthur was taking.

The last major contention being Arthur’s marriage of a peasant warlock.

Geoffrey had voiced his concern over the union itself but nearly stormed out of the room when Arthur announced that Merlin would be made official court sorcerer. He believed that Geoffrey’s issue revolved around the fact that Merlin was a commoner being given a place in the court and not around Merlin’s magic, but he needed to believe that Geoffrey could be trusted totally since it would be his job to ensure that Madoc’s claim to the throne could never be questioned.

A headache began to bloom behind Arthur’s eyes, the long, sleepless night beginning to catch up to him as well. “Thank you, Edgar. Tell Geoffrey that I will be there straightaway.” Edgar bowed and turned to leave before Arthur thought to shout “And then take a break, would you?” at his retreating form.

“What was that?” Merlin’s voice came from close behind him, and he turned to see the man standing with Madoc’s head resting on his shoulder, the child’s big blue eyes taking in the room with interest. Arthur reached out automatically to rest a hand on the baby’s back.

“Geoffrey’s heard about Madoc—or at least some variation of the story and wants to speak with me,” Arthur said with all the excitement and verve of a man begin walked to the gallows.

Madoc gurgled happily as Merlin kissed his cheek before shifting him to the other side. “Well, it was bound to happen. That old codger knows everything.”

Arthur grumbled as he shrugged into his jacket. “It’s definitely time for him to relax and enjoy what’s left of his golden years.”

“You just suggest that he retire, and king or not, he will bite your head off,” Merlin chuckled, leaning forward to dart a kiss to Arthur’s temple. “Maybe I’ll take Madoc down to see Gaius. See if he’s nailed down a birthday for our prince yet.”

The beaming smile that had lit up Merlin’s face was contagious, and Arthur said, “You’ll be back here by lunch. That’s an order. We’ve got a celebration to plan.”

With a quick kiss to the top of Madoc’s head and one to Merlin’s lips, he  made his way out the door to face Geoffrey.


	5. Chapter 5

“It seems,” Gaius began, a book open in his hands and his eyes scanning the page with the fervor of someone intent on absorbing all the material within. “Based on his size, weight, and overall development, I would estimate that the child is about six weeks old.”

Merlin looked up from where he was lying on the rug in front of the fire, Madoc resting on his chest with his tiny fists balled up in Merlin’s tunic. The baby grunted his displeasure as Merlin propped himself on up on his elbows.

The news was followed by thoughtful silence as Merlin shifted Madoc so he was less precariously perched and Gaius continued to devour the book he had said that he believed contained a prophecy similar to the one spoken by the goddess.

“The Mother said he was born under the last full moon…” Merlin trailed off as Gaius stood up from his workbench and moved to a closer chair.

“The last full moon was on the fifteenth of last month,” Gaius said with a nod. “Which only confirms my initial claim.” He leaned forward and held the book in front of Merlin. “Here.”

Merlin scanned the page and found nothing of importance. “What am I supposed to be seeing, Gaius?”

“That is the closest thing I can find to the prophecy,” he answered, lowering the book to Merlin’s lap and settling himself more fully into his chair. “It speaks vaguely of a child gifted to a king, but I do not believe the king spoken of is Arthur.”

The more Merlin read, the less applicable the prophecy seemed. The child of which the prophecy spoke was an illegitimate child of the king, sent to his kingdom after the death of its father. And while the increasingly familiar story spoke of betrayal and murder at the hands of the child, it was clear that Madoc was not that child.

Merlin moved the book to the floor and turned his eyes to his mentor. “You think the goddess spoke of a new prophecy.”

“As I said before,” Gaius began with a wise smile. “Not all prophecies are for us to know or understand, Merlin. Some things are greater than us.”

All Merlin gave in response was a great sigh. No closer to any prophetic epiphany, he sat up and turned his attention to his son. He gave the child an exaggerated grimace. “I bet you know all the answers, don’t you? You just won’t tell us.”

Madoc bounced forward in his father’s arms with a happy gurgle.

“That’s what I thought,” Merlin grumbled uselessly, not able to keep the affection from his voice. He leaned forward and kissed his son’s chubby cheek.

“He looks very much like you,” Gaius offered.

Merlin laughed at that. “He looks just like Arthur. Look at those eyes.”

He lofted Madoc for Gaius’ inspection.

Despite the raven coloring of the baby’s sparse hair and the bright blue of his eyes, Madoc was Arthur’s son through and through. It even seemed to Merlin that once their son’s hair grew a bit, it would have the same texture as Arthur’s—soft, fluffy, and sticking up in all directions after a night’s sleep.  

“He does have your ears,” Gaius pointed out.

Merlin groaned and turned Madoc to face him. “I am so sorry, sweet boy,” he said, shaking his head. “No one deserves that. Hopefully you’ll have your father’s looks so that people might look past these ears.”

He heard Gaius laugh before feeling the toe of his shoe nudge into his side in reproach.

\-------------------- 

Arthur made the announcement to a buzzing crowd that very evening. The great hall was packed to the rafters with more people than Merlin had dreamed could possibly fit, a few of whom he’d never even seen before.

Merlin stood behind his husband on the raised platform at the head of the hall.

“Esteemed guests,” Arthur began, raising his hands. “It is with the greatest pride that I announce the birth of my son and heir to the throne of Camelot, Madoc Pendragon!” There was more pride in Arthur’s voice than Merlin had ever heard.

At the eruption of noise that exploded from the crowd—cheers, applause, gasps of disbelief—Madoc, already whining and shifting nervously in Merlin’s arms, decided he had had enough and burst into a fit of noise of his own.

Arthur took a step back to take the child from Merlin, laughing as he lifted the screaming child into his arms. “What’s the matter?” Arthur asked with a soft laugh, resting Madoc against his shoulder and shushing into his ear. “They’re all gathered for you.”

“He hates the noise,” Merlin pointed out, placing a soothing hand on the baby’s back. “He’s not used to so many people.”

At that, Arthur laughed again, turning his head to press a kiss against his son’s temple. “It’s alright, love. Sometimes I feel like screaming when I’m at events like this, too. You’ll get used to it.”

Merlin allowed himself just a moment to savor the pure beaming joy radiating from Arthur and found it infectious. In front of the entire crowd, Merlin leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his king’s lips only to be met with another room-brightening smile.

There wasn’t much to do after Arthur presented Madoc—still red-faced and screaming—to the people. He closed by announcing that there would be a week’s worth of celebration complete with a feast and tourney in the new prince’s honor before dismissing the room.

No matter how happy Arthur had been, Merlin couldn’t have been happier to escape the room full of speculative glances and murmurs. He had thought there was nothing worse than overhearing speculation and tarnishing rumors about Arthur, but watching people whisper behind hands about their son was nearly unbearable.

“That went well, I think,” Arthur said once they were back in their chambers, Madoc having been whisked away by Kara—but not before Merlin fully apologized to her for his poor behavior that morning.

“It was awful,” Merlin countered, halfway through taking his boots off. “You didn’t hear them all muttering and plotting against him.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “ _Merlin_ , no one was _plotting against_ anyone. You know how these things go. People will always talk. Hell, people do little else, do they?”

He punctuated his words by throwing himself down on the bed beside his surly husband, lying on his back and watching as Merlin stood up and put away his boots before stripping down to his hose and climbing in bed.

“I don’t like it, Arthur. He is our son—their prince,” he corrected. The moment lapsed into contemplative silence. The _What if the people don’t accept him?_ going unspoken between them before Merlin broke the silence with a sigh. “I know that you don’t want them to know that he has magic just yet, but I worry that the longer we withhold information about his birth, the more curious people will become.”

Arthur slid into bed beside his husband, pulling him close enough to kiss the top of his head. “We will tell them soon enough. I think that one nearly-unbelievable announcement should be enough for today. We will handle the rest as it comes.”

Merlin let himself be comforted by Arthur’s words even if he had his doubts.

Madoc’s arrival had been such a blessing, but it had been Merlin’s experience that random bursts of good fortune did not come without consequences. Arthur would call him a pessimist, and Merlin would be likely to agree. When something good would happen, Merlin always found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As it would in this case less than five months later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an author's note, I would just like to thank everyone for sticking with this story despite the incredibly slow build. If I hadn't already posted these as individual chapters, I think that I would have rather posted them all together as one long prologue-type chapter. I promise that things will start really happening in the next chapter. Thank you all again for sticking with me and my long-windedness. :)


	6. Chapter 6

After a long summer, the air was finally starting to carry with it the chill of autumn. Leaves were beginning to change and the market stalls were overflowing with the spoils of a good harvest.

Most importantly, to Arthur at least, the end of summer meant the end of state visits for the year. Camelot had seen Queen Annis and her people off that morning and there was finally time to breathe. No more keeping up appearances for foreign dignitaries or ambassadors, Arthur could finally relax.

Truth be told, many of Camelot’s visitors over the summer had been less interested in seeing Arthur, and even the novelty of Merlin being Court Sorcerer and Royal Consort had worn off years ago; they’d only had eyes for the kingdom’s new prince—who had been more than happy for the attention.

Madoc had grown like a weed over the summer months, able to hold himself up and demand the attention of those around him. And also able to lob decently-sized objects at those who refused his demands. (Merlin had pointed out the similarities between Arthur and his son and had been threatened with the stocks for his observation.)

It had been difficult leaving Madoc with his nurse so often, especially since it seemed as though the child was learning by leaps and bounds every day, but after long meetings and tedious dinners with leaders and representatives of other kingdoms, it was all either Arthur or Merlin could do to kiss their son on the head before falling into bed, exhausted and facing the daunting reality of another excruciatingly early morning.

When Arthur finally made it up to his rooms that evening, insisting on a private meal with Merlin, he found his husband there already, holding Madoc on his lap and trying--with a truly remarkable amount of forced enthusiasm—to feed him what looked like smashed carrots but smelled like something that had been scraped off a boot.

Madoc was less than impressed by the selection in front of him, but his small face lit up when he spotted Arthur.

“Where’s Kara?” Arthur asked, dropping a kiss to the top of Merlin’s head before doing the same to Madoc.

“I gave her the night off,” Merlin started, and Arthur laughed as Merlin opened his mouth in some sort of ridiculous show and trying to feed Madoc another spoonful before ultimately failing. “Oh, fine. Here go to your father.”

Arthur was still laughing as he got an armful of little boy. “I don’t blame him. That looks disgusting.”

“It all looks disgusting. That’s what happens when food is stripped of its dignity.” Merlin stood up and started clearing away what appeared to be a partially successful attempt at Madoc’s dinner. “I gave Kara the night off. Her mother is ailing and needed help getting ready for winter.”

Arthur made a noise of acknowledgement, hitching Madoc onto his hip and idly bouncing him. “Someone from the kitchen should be bringing our dinner shortly,” he said when the silence stretched on a bit too long. His words were met with a distracted hum, and Arthur decided to press the issue. “You’re being very quiet.”

It was more of a question than an accusation, but he hoped that however Merlin heard it, he might get an answer before he began to worry that something was really wrong.

“It’s Kara,” Merlin finally admitted.

“What about her?”

Merlin set the dishes in a neat stack on the table and turned to face him, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “She’s asked to resign her position.”

She had been such a comfort the past few months, and Madoc loved her. Arthur had thought he’d gone out of his way to ensure that the girl had everything that she would need for her job and some extra comforts to boot. It would be nearly impossible to replace her kindness and the connection she had with Madoc.

Merlin must have heard the questions in his silence, because he continued with, “She said that the new physician—“

“Eustace, Merlin. His name is Eustace,” Arthur corrected. Merlin gave a dismissive wave as though it didn’t really matter. To him, it probably didn’t.

“Anyway. _Eustace_ went to visit Kara’s mother in the lower town this morning and said that she isn’t long for this world, and with her three young sisters living at home, someone needs to help take care of them. She said that her replacement has already been chosen.”

It was perfectly understandable. Arthur nodded. “I’ll make sure that she leaves with a little extra money to help make her mother comfortable for the time she has left.”

His words were met with a sad smile from Merlin who crossed the short distance between himself and Arthur to press a kiss to his lips. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

They spent a short moment locked in each other’s gaze, and Arthur was sure he smiling as though he were daft _as well as_ besotted. Madoc lifted his arm and made a fumbling attempt to pat Arthur’s face, so Arthur put a hand over his son’s and held it to his cheek. Merlin’s answering smile was nothing short of dazzling.

“He needs a bath,” Merlin said. His voice was soft and sounded suspiciously thick. Arthur would have called him a girl for getting so emotional if he wasn’t sure that his own voice would sound exactly the same if he tried to speak. “If you helped, we could probably have him washed and down to bed before dinner gets here.”

Arthur laughed and bounced Madoc on his hip to get his attention. “Did you hear that Madoc? He makes you sound like a dog that needs washing.”

He held Madoc out in front of him by his underarms and let Merlin take him, following along and listening to the child’s delighted giggling as Merlin blew raspberries on his neck as he carried him.

\-------------------

Arthur was awake and working on a draft of the speech he planned to give to the Cobblers’ Guild—which he had been surprised to hear was actually a real thing—that would be in attendance at a special dinner in their honor the next evening when a knock on the door provided a much appreciated distraction from his work.

He opened the door to find a girl of about twenty waiting on the other side. Her green eyes were wide and nervous, betraying her otherwise well put together appearance. It was clear from her clothes that she was a servant, but the dress she wore was obviously her best since it was nearly pristine but for a small errant stitch on the left sleeve saying it had been previously mended for the occasion.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Her voice shook, and just for a moment, Arthur worried that her trembling legs would give out during her curtsey. “My name is Rose. I’ve been assigned to be the nurse to the prince, sire.”

Arthur gave her his most disarming smile and opened the door wide in invitation, smiling as she curtseyed again and made her way inside, an endearing blush accentuating the already pretty caramel color of her cheeks.

He shut the door once he was sure she was all the way inside and ushered her toward Madoc’s room. Madoc was sitting in his crib, entertaining himself by intermittently chewing toothlessly on his rattle and shaking it within an inch of its life. He pitched the rattle aside in favor of reaching out with grabbing hands when he spotted Arthur.

“This is Madoc,” Arthur introduced, lifting the boy from his crib and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “He’s fairly self-contained, but he does enjoy the occasional outburst.”

She was already speaking when Arthur turned to hand her the child. “He is a beautiful boy, sire. He looks very much like you.”

Madoc was already grabbing hold of her dress and offering her a wide smile. Just having the child in her arms seemed to work wonders for calming her down. Arthur often noticed that it worked the same way for himself.

“Merlin and I were both very sorry to lose his last nurse, but it seems as though my concerns are unfounded. He seems quite taken with you already, Rose,” he said easily, hoping that they could begin the working relationship with her being slightly less terrified of him.

Rose only nodded, shifting Madoc onto her hip. “I met with Kara yesterday, and she gave me his routine. I am very hopeful that I can make the change as seamless as possible for him.”

The answer was formal enough in itself that Arthur was quite sure he’d lost the battle. He could only hope that the girl would eventually feel more comfortable in his presence. He decided then that he would send Merlin in later to speak with her. It was impossible to keep one’s guard up in Merlin’s presence. He just had that air about him. So, in concession, Arthur gave her another smile and said, “I have every confidence in your ability, Rose. You will let me know if there is anything at all that you need?”

“Of course, sire.”

With another nod to Rose and a smile to Madoc, Arthur excused himself from the room to continue the not-at-all mind-numbing task of writing his cobbler speech.

\--------------------

In the two weeks that followed, Rose had surpassed any expectations Merlin had had for her.

Admittedly, he was harboring a bit of a bias, having grown to respect and care for Kara as a part of their daily life. She had been wonderful with Madoc, and her resignation had sent Merlin reeling a bit.

Rose, in her turn, had settled in quickly, even keeping Madoc to the same routine he’d been used to. It had been an easy transition, even if the girl never seemed to let herself relax in Arthur’s presence and seemed downright uneasy around Merlin himself.

At first, he found it strange, but then he often forgot his own status. He brushed off his worry and reminded himself that people of a lower station—and Merlin hated himself for even thinking those words—were expected to behave with a certain amount of reverence and submission around those above themselves.

Even if Merlin thought the entire concept was ridiculous, some people, like Gaius, adhered to the tradition as though it were vital. Perhaps Rose believed the same.

Merlin had been turning down their bed—a task he refused to pass on to Arthur’s new manservant because he enjoyed the simple domesticity of the act—when Arthur stepped out from behind his changing screen wearing sleeping hose and a peculiar, concerned expression.

He climbed into his side of the bed just as Merlin was finishing turning it down, his eyes focused on something far away and his face just as screwed up in thought as before.

Merlin continued on to his side of the bed, snuffing out the last candle and climbing in on his own side before turning to his husband. “You know, if you keep your face pinched up like that, it’s going to stay that way.”

“Huh?” Arthur replied, distracted.

Merlin shifted closer until Arthur got the hint and threw and arm over his husband’s middle, pulling him flat against his chest. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours or are you just going to keep loudly thinking at me?”

He heard and felt Arthur sigh behind him, the breath tickling the hair at the nape of his neck. “How old were you when you started showing signs of magic?”

“Probably about Madoc’s age. Mum said that when I’d get mad, I’d send cups and things flying across the room.” He was sure he was missing the point of Arthur’s strange mood, so he asked, “Why?”

“This morning, Rose was feeding Madoc at the table, and he got frustrated—like he usually does. Only this time…”

Arthur let the sentence trail into nothing so Merlin supplied, “Something strange happened?” Arthur shifted until he could roll onto his back and Merlin turned himself to prop on an elbow. “Arthur, you don’t need to worry. He’s young. He can learn to control it.”

“I know.” Arthur didn’t say it with any sort of relief. “It’s just…The way Rose looked at him when it happened—and it couldn’t have been an accident, Merlin. The spoon went flying out of her hand and out the window.”

Merlin laughed but sobered quickly at Arthur’s serious expression.

Even in the darkness, Merlin could see Arthur’s fingers tangled into his own hair in frustration, and he reached out to pull them away, linking their fingers together in a way he hoped would offer comfort. He heard Arthur breathe out a deep sigh before speaking.

“I didn’t let on that I saw,” he said. “She didn’t say anything, but I could see in her eyes that she’s wary of him.”

Merlin sat up at that. “You’re sure?”

“She set him down on the floor and made some excuse to go get another spoon. She was gone for nearly half an hour, and when she came back, she forgot to bring a spoon.” Arthur rolled to his side to meet Merlin’s eyes. “I understand being a little shaken, but this…this was different, Merlin. She hardly touched him for the rest of the evening. I excused her, finished feeding him with my own spoon, and then put him to bed.”

“I won’t have anyone treating him differently because of his magic.” Merlin’s voice was firm. “I know how that feels, and I won’t stand for it happening to our son.”

“Surely, with people knowing that he’s your son as well and that the only way that could happen is through magic, it shouldn’t be such a surprise that Madoc shares your abilities,” Arthur said, matter-of-fact.

Merlin shook his head. “People always have their suspicions, Arthur. Even if they suspect something, it’s completely different than having it proven.” Arthur said nothing, so Merlin rested his hand on his husband’s bare chest. “I’ll stay with her tomorrow. I’ll make some excuse about not feeling well, and I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He let himself settle when Arthur pulled him down again. “You should have seen it, Merlin. It was all I could do not to laugh.” Arthur chuckled under his breath then. “It went out the window like an arrow. He looked so satisfied with himself. He looked just like you.”

Merlin muffled his own laugher in Arthur’s chest. “Mum said that when I was about two years old, I took the spoon out of her hand and thumped her in the head with it. She took that spoon and whacked me across my backside.”

Arthur ducked a kiss to Merlin’s forehead. “I couldn’t do this without you. You know that, right?”

“What _could_ you do without me?” Merlin asked. He grinned as Arthur gave him a sour expression and flipped him onto his back, kissing him.

\--------------------

_Guttering torchlight cast the eerie, distorted shadows of a pair of cloaked figures across the damp, stone walls._

_“It’s as we suspected, my lord.” The first voice was resigned but firm, determined. “The child has magic.”_

_The second voice was swift, decisive, and more ominous than the first. A noise of disgust preceded spoken words. “The king may be blinded by that bedwarming sorcerer he keeps as a pet, but this kingdom will never see a sorcerer on her throne.”_

_The silence between them after the second voice had spoken was broken only by the steady dripping of groundwater, the crackling of the torch fire as it used up its fuel._

_“I’ll send for the thief.” It was the first voice again. “We’ll meet again when I get word that he’s entered the city.”_

_There was a subtle motion beneath the second cloak that might have been a nod. “We must be careful until then.”_

_“Yes, my lord.”_

_Quick, departing footsteps echoed off the stone walls in opposite directions as the torches receded, casting the scene into darkness behind them._

 


End file.
